


Tale As Old As Time

by pure1magination



Category: Fantastic Four, X-Men
Genre: Adorable, Alternate Universe - Beauty and the Beast, Canon-Typical Violence, Disney, F/M, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-12-24
Updated: 2014-12-24
Packaged: 2018-03-03 04:07:40
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 12,200
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2837462
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/pure1magination/pseuds/pure1magination
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Logan acts beastly towards women. Jean Grey strongly objects, but he won't listen. </p>
<p>So she curses him.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>(Beauty and the Beast AU/ X-Men & Fantastic Four crossover)</p>
            </blockquote>





	Tale As Old As Time

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Frosted_Iron](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Frosted_Iron/gifts).



This wasn’t the first time Prince Logan had entered these woods, nor would it be the last. Although he did not need to hunt, he did anyway, partly because he enjoyed the sport of tracking down animals, partly because he relished the victory of killing them, but mostly because of _her._

A flash of red disappeared as quickly as it had appeared between two trees. Logan’s lips curled up on one side.

Keeping his tread stealthy and his breathing quiet, he approached her, listening for the telltale sound of her footsteps crunching on a patch of leaves, or snapping a twig-- _there._ He sprung into the clearing, grinning, and the red-haired woman whirled around with her hand on her heart, startled.

Her shoulders eased slightly when she saw who it was. “Logan!” But her eyes held warning.

“Jean,” he greeted, grin fading into a lazy smile, stance triumphant.

“What are you doing here?”

“Lookin’ fer you.” He leaned casually against a tree, arms crossed over his broad chest to showcase his biceps.

The warning in Jean’s eyes sharpened. “Logan, I’ve told you, I don’t want to play this game.”

Logan’s smile soured. “It’s not a game.”

“Then what is it?” she demanded.

Logan unfolded his arms and took two steps towards her, curling his large hands around her upper arms. “He’s no good for you, Jean.”

“You don’t know that.”

"Yes I do!” He realized his voice was sharp and softened it. “I’ve seen the way you look at me, Jean. You can’t tell me it’s not there.”

Jean pulled away from him. “It’s not there, Logan.” Her face was turned away, her tone melancholy.

He took another step towards her. “Yes it is.” He reached out to cup her face with one hand. “Come on. You can’t tell me you’ve never thought of kissin’ me.”

Jean frowned sharply at him and backed away. “Get away!”

“Jean--,”

“I said get away!!”

Logan pinned her against a tree, glaring into her eyes. “What the hell, Jean! You meet me here every day, you flirt, you lead me on, and then you say no. Why do ya keep turnin’ me down when you _clearly_ want me!”

“Logan, _please!”_

Logan’s mouth twisted up on one side. “Bet you sound really pretty saying that in bed, Red.”

Jean kneed him in the groin.

Logan crumpled to the ground, clutching himself, wincing, face pale.

Jean scrambled away from him and rolled up her sleeves. “I’ve had enough of this.” Her eyes glowed green and her robes swirled around her as though she were underwater; her hair moved as though suddenly weightless in a breeze no one else could feel. “Until you learn to respect women,” her voice boomed, filling the forest around them, silencing the birds, “You will appear as I see you. What is inside shall be on the outside.”

Searing pain spread through Logan. He struggled to breathe; he felt his bones cracking, his skin shifting.

Jean towered over him, hands outstretched, eyes glowing, continuing her incantation. “Until someone loves you, until you learn to respect her, you shall remain--,”

Logan screamed as his skin suddenly felt as though it were on fire. His skull felt as though it were splitting.

“-- _a beast.”_  

* * *

Logan had no idea how much time had passed as he pushed himself off the ground. Maybe he felt disoriented from whatever Jean had done to him, but everything seemed… different, somehow. He wasn’t exactly thrilled to see that his favorite hunting gloves had been pierced through by newfound claws. Nor was he ecstatic to find his legs were now even shorter. But his sleeves, and the chest of his shirt, felt too tight. “What the hell did she _do_ to me?” he wondered aloud. His voice sounded even more gruff than it usually did.

He trudged back to his castle, and even _that_ looked different. It was darker somehow, and when he entered, the place seemed empty of servants.

“McCoy?” he rasped. “LeBeau!”

He startled when a clock and a candelabra wobbled into the room. The clock dutifully answered, “Yes?” and the candelabra asked, “What is i’, monsieur?”

“What the fuck happened to you two?”

The clock and the candelabra exchanged a glance. The clock spoke, “We are not certain. A curse seems to have fallen upon the castle.”

The candelabra added, “All de servants ahre like dis now, monsieur.” He gestured to himself.

“Fuck!” Logan cursed, holding his head. Once his hands were there, he was horrified to find two bony protrusions sticking out of his skull.

“An’ if Ah may say,” the candelabra ventured, “Ya look a bi’ differen’ yourself.”

“How bad is it,” Logan rasped.

The clock made a non-committal noise.

The candelabra winced and remained silent.

Logan cursed. “That bad huh?” His spirits were sinking faster by the second.

“It’s not… _that_ bad, monsieur. Ah mean.. ya still look… _sort-of_ human…”

Logan groaned. “Give me a mirror.”

The clock faltered. He seemed searching for something positive to say.

“Give me a mirror!” Logan demanded. His voice came out as more of a roar than a shout.

LeBeau winced and wobbled off to fetch a mirror, which was glowing. He offered it to Logan.

Logan snatched the mirror and slowly brought his eyes to meet his reflection.

The first shock was that he was completely covered in hair. He’s been on the hairy side before, but now every inch of his face, his neck-- he took off his gloves and found that his hands were not only larger, and not only bore claws, but were also completely covered in hair.

The second shock was the two large curved horns protruding from his skull.

The third shock was that his entire face had been transformed. He’s lost all his good looks; his face had elongated and warped to become more animalistic, his chest had broadened, his arms had lengthened, and when he curled back his lip, he found that his teeth were more doglike than human.

At least his eyes were still the same.

Logan hurled the mirror across the room at the cobblestone floor. To everyone’s surprise, it did not shatter. It merely bounced off the floor and continued glowing.

“Ah think ya got a magic mirrah,” commented the candelabra.

Logan couldn’t care less about whether or not he had a magic mirror. He lived in a cursed castle filled with talking furniture. And he was ugly. And the woman he loved had done all this. Logan clenched his fists, tilted his head back, and let out a loud frustrated roar. His shirt tore in the process. The walls shook. Dust fell from the ceiling.

The clock and the candelabra stepped back and exchanged a glance.

And so began the isolation of Prince Logan.

* * *

Susan thought she would love moving to the French countryside. Her wedding with Reed was in a week, the cottage she was living in was cute and quaint, there were wildflowers and friendly villagers everywhere, but no one seemed to pay much attention to her. Maybe because she was so quiet, maybe because Reed was a peasant man who owned a chicken farm, and no one cared who his new wife was going to be.

Susan thought she was going to love living in this little town, but instead she found herself bored by the monotony. She sought solace in her old friend, books.

Susan had always thought it would be grand to have magical powers, to travel somewhere no one had seen before, to explore, to meet fantastic creatures and go on adventures.

Johnny swaggered up to his sister, all muscles and youthful charm. His grin dropped when he saw she was reading again. “Really sis? Another book?” He snapped it shut. “You gotta get your head outta the clouds. Live _real_ life. Not some stupid legend.”

Susan hugged the book to her chest. “It’s not stupid, Johnny. And it’s not a legend. It’s a _fairy tale.”_

Johnny snorted. “Yeah. ‘Cause that sounds so much better.”

Johnny had adjusted to life in the small town way faster than Susan had. He’d immediately wooed all the local girls and earned a reputation as a skilled hunter. Really, he wasn’t even that good, but this town was small enough that to them, he was amazing. And he relished every second of it.

It had _definitely_ gone to his head.

“Why don’t you hang out at the tavern or something? Talk to people?” He shoved her shoulder in what would be a playful manner, except he always shoved her too hard. He loved it when people told him he didn’t know his own strength.

Susan stared at the ground. “I’d rather not surround myself with drunk men, thank you.”

“So, what, you’re just gonna spend all your time waiting to hang around with Reed? That guy is a total stick in the mud!”

Susan’s glare was more disappointment than anger. “Reed Richards is a nice man, nicer than most of the guys in this town.”

Johnny rolled his eyes. “People don’t marry for _nice.”_

“Well I _do.”_

“Pfff. Whatever,” Johnny waved his hand dismissively. “Seriously though? Come to the pub tonight. There’s women there too. It ain’t all men. C’mon. Do it for meeeee?” He gave her his best boyish grin.

If for no other reason than she was bored, Susan sighed after a moment and said, “All right. But if I don’t like it, I’m leaving.”

Johnny beamed.

* * *

Susan was knocked out of her reverie by a fist pounding on her door. She placed a bookmark in her novel and gently laid down the book before answering her door. “Yes?”

Reed Richards stood on her doorstep with a sheepish smile. “I’m afraid I have some good news and some bad news-- may I come in?”

“Sure.” Susan stepped aside to let Reed in.

Reed entered her cottage, but stayed near the door. “The good news,” he began, “is that one of my inventions has finally been taken notice of, and I’m wanted in Paris to discuss it further.”

Susan beamed. “Reed, that’s wonderful!”

Reed smiled meekly. “The bad news… is that we’re going to have to delay our wedding.”

Susan’s smile disappeared. Her brows came together. “What?”

Reed scratched the back of his neck. “Yeah… They want me in Paris within the week. Travel to Paris takes a few days. I have to leave tonight.”

“Take me with you!” she pleaded.

Reed backed towards the door, increasingly awkward. “I… can’t do that. It’s-- it’s hard to explain, Suzie. It wouldn’t be… proper.”

“I don’t care!”

Reed’s hand was on the door handle. “Well, I do. I’m not going to have my wife’s reputation scandalized before we even get married.”

“But Reed-!”

Reed sighed and rubbed his forehead. “Please, don’t make this any more difficult for me, Suzie. I’ll be back in two weeks. We can get married then. All right? Just give me some time…”

“To get away from me?!”

Reed was silent for a moment. “To peddle my invention.” He opened the door. “I’m sorry about this, Suzie. I really am.” He stepped outside. Waited a moment. “...I love you,” he said quietly before closing the door behind him.

* * *

If Susan hadn’t been in the mood to go to the pub before, she certainly wasn’t now. The sun was edging towards the horizon, blanketing the countryside in a pleasant orange glow. If there was one place Susan didn’t want to be right now, it was here. To think, Reed was on his way to Paris--! And he’d left without her!

Susan had been so upset she hadn’t even been able to focus on her novel. It was so unfair! All she’d ever dreamed of was adventure, and the opportunity to visit Paris had just been dangled in front of her, only to be rudely snatched away in the name of propriety!

She was musing bitterly on this when suddenly she heard a whinny. Cold fear settled in her gut. Reed’s horse was trotting towards her, throwing his head back repeatedly, the whites of his eyes showing, still half-wearing the harness for Reed’s cart. But Reed was nowhere to be found.

“Ben! What is it, Ben?” She stood in front of the spooked horse and talked to him as though he could speak.

Ben uneasily walked sideways, tossing his head and making nervous noises. He seemed to be indicating that she should follow.

“All right, Ben. Hang on.” She’d ridden horses bareback before. Getting on was always the hardest part, and Ben was already skittish. She soothed him as best she could, grabbed a portion of his mane, and hoisted herself up on his back. “Take me to him!”

Ben bolted.

* * *

Susan wasn’t sure where she’d expected Ben to take her, but when she found herself in a thick forest filled with twisted trees and distant glowing eyes, she was very glad to be on a horse. Eerie breezes shuffled dry leaves across their path. Under her, Ben was quite tense. She patted his neck. “Shhh, it’s okay.” This phrase was meant to soothe both of them.

Then she heard a distant howl.

Ben reared, cartwheeling his front hooves through the air, before setting them down with a thump and bolting again.

She sensed, more than observed, that wolves were closing in on them. She heard the leaves shift, felt the tension rise in the air. She was almost relieved when a dark stone castle loomed into view. Ben halted before the gates, shifting uneasily as she dismounted and opened them. She led him inside and closed the gates behind them, just as the first wolf broached the clearing.

She wasn’t sure how sturdy those gates were, so she hurried to the castle doors, hairs on the back of her neck prickling as she heard the gates rattling behind her.

“Hello?” she called once she was inside. Her voice echoed through the dark, empty chamber.

In the corner, a clock and a candelabra perked up.

She took a few hesitant steps further into the room. “Hello?” she called again. “Is anyone here?”

The candelabra whispered something in French to the clock. The clock nodded.

Susan peered into the darkness, unable to see much in the dim lighting. She had the feeling she wasn’t alone. “Hello?” she called again.

No one was answering her, so she figured whoever was here must either be deaf or indifferent to her. She was so tired of people being indifferent to her presence. Without a clue as to the layout of the castle or where she was going, she decided to explore until she found someone. She worried a bit that she would get in trouble for trespassing, but she fully intended to explain how and why she got here.

She turned corner after corner, explored several corridors, guided unknowingly by the candelabra and the clock, until she found a dungeon.

“Susan?!” called a surprised voice from his sitting position on the floor of a cell.

“Reed!” she exclaimed with equal surprise, kneeling in front of the cell. “How did you get here? Why are you in jail?! What happened to you!?”

“Susan, what are you doing here?! Why didn’t you stay home?!”

But neither had the opportunity to answer the other because suddenly the room was filled with a cold draft, and the pair was approached by booming, authoritative footsteps. Both heads turned to regard the looming figure that towered over them in the shadows. “What is this, buy one get one free?”

“You can’t sell people!” Susan retorted, disgusted.

The dark figure raised an amused eyebrow. “Lady, I’m rich enough to buy whatever the fuck I want. Now you wanna explain what you’re doin’ in my castle?”

She stood, anger building. “You wanna explain why you’re keeping a good man prisoner?”

“He trespassed on my property.”

“Yeah? So did I! Are you gonna throw me into a cell too?” she challenged.

“Bet you’d _like_ that, _wouldn’t_ you.” There was a lascivious tone to his voice.

“I’d _like_ you to set him _free!”_ She took a step forward.

“You sure you don’t wanna be chained up too?” Teeth glinted in the darkness.

Susan slapped him right across the face. He felt oddly… soft. The next thing she knew, her arm was being held in an iron grasp by what she was almost certain was a hairy hand, and he was hoisting her up by her arm so that her feet were barely touching the ground as he loomed closer and leaned towards her face. _“You wanna try that again?”_ he gruffed.

Susan whimpered. “Let me go!”

He hoisted her up higher and brought his face closer. She could smell his musty breath. This close, she could almost see his features. Whatever creature she was staring at definitely wasn’t human.

“Let me go!” Her voice cracked.

The beast abruptly dropped her. She crumpled to the floor.

She cradled her arm and fought back tears. “And let him go too!”

“You think you give the orders around here?!” the beast demanded.

Susan flinched.

The beast let out a rumbling sigh. “Fine.” He stepped past her and unlatched the cell. “I have no use for him anyway.” He threw Reed Richards towards another figure which had been lurking in the shadows, unnoticed by either Reed or Susan. “Take him away.” The dark figure bowed and skittered away on wooden spider-like legs, carrying Reed with him.

“Wait!” Susan reached after Reed with her uninjured arm.

“Suzie!” Reed called as he was dragged away, down the stairs and out of sight. The door slammed behind them.

Susan crumpled into a sniffling pile on the floor.

The beast stood awkwardly, unsure what to do. He looked to the candelabra for help. The candelabra gave him a meaningful look.

The beast sighed and knelt down in front of Susan, shading her from the light. She looked up and was startled by his animalistic visage. She gasped.

He looked as though he was bracing himself for some sort of rejection. “Is your arm okay?”

Susan turned it experimentally. “I… I think so.” She sniffled.

“Good.” He stood, blocking out more of her light. “Come with me.” He gave her no room to protest, just started walking, expecting her to follow.

Susan pushed herself up to her feet and followed the beast.

He led her through his dark castle, holding a candelabra which he conversed with in hushed tones. “I… hope you like it here.”

Susan sent him a questioning look.

The candelabra nudged him. “The castle is your home now, so you can go anywhere you want. Except the west wing.”

“Wait.” She stopped walking. “My home?! But--”

The beast whirled around to snarl at her. “Yeah, your home! You’re a prisoner, get it?!”

“But--!”

“Don’t ‘but’ me, bub!” He towered closer. “You trespassed on private property, you trounced around my castle like you owned the place. You gotta pay the price.”

Susan backed away with every step he took closer. Her face was streaked with tears. She was clearly frightened.

The beast sighed and rubbed his temples. The candelabra said something quietly into the beast’s horselike ears. The beast rolled his eyes and turned around. “Since you’re gonna be here a while, though, I figured ya might want to stay somewhere more comfortable. So I’m taking ya to yer bedroom.”

Susan sniffled close behind him.

_Good. She’s still following._ He led her down several corridors and up several flights of stairs until she was at her bedroom. He opened the door and escorted her inside.

Susan entered the room, collapsed on the bed, and was sobbing as Logan closed the door behind him.

“I am so screwed,” he gruffed to the candelabra.

“Give it tahme, monsieur.”

“You really think this broad is gonna break the spell?”

The candelabra gave him a look. “Ah know ya won’t know unless ya _try.”_

 Logan grunted, glowered into the distance, and left Susan to sob into the bedsheets.

* * *

“There’s a _girl_ in the castle?!” repeated an excited teacup with a chip in her forehead.

“Yes, Jubilee,” answered the calm clock. “There is a young woman in the castle. I have not spoken at length with the young woman yet, but I believe her name is Susan.”

“A girl!” repeated the flirtatious candelabra, elbowing the clock. “She could be de one! De one tuh break da spell!”

“Well, yes,” the clock admitted, “She could, but it’s likely that we won’t know for a while…”

“Still,” interjected the optimistic teapot. “There is hope.”

The candelabra nodded. “Dere is hope.”

“You’re all a bunch of saps!” grumbled the stove. “You really think that the first girl to set foot in this castle since that asshole was put under a spell is going to be The One to break it? What do you think this is, a Disney movie?”

“Erik, please--,” protested the teapot.

The stove growled at him. “No, Charles! This is ridiculous! One woman is not going to change his life!”

“One woman already did,” the teapot pointed out.

The stove ignited all four burners and glared at the teapot.

“Gentlemen, please!” protested the clock. “I admit the likelihood is low, speaking from a purely statistical standpoint, but there is something about this young woman…”

“Chere got some _fire_ to her!” emphasized the candelabra, igniting one of his ‘hands.’

“I’m… not sure that’s the word I would use, but yes,” agreed the clock. “She certainly does possess a certain level of willpower.”

The candelabra chuckled. “Punched ‘im right in de face!”

“It was more of a slap,” the clock corrected. “But yes. That, and her gusto to even enter this place. Not to mention the sheer bravery it must have taken to look the Master in the eyes and demand that he set her friend free.”

The candelabra’s face fell a bit. “Ah think dey were more den friends, mon ami.”

“Well it matters little now,” the clock stated. “She is with us for the indefinite future.”

“A sad fate indeed,” agreed the teapot, “But if she _is_ the one…”

The stove rolled his eyes. “It’ll be a fucking miracle.”

The teapot looked around, frowning. “Has anyone seen Jubilee?”

The rest of them cast their eyes about. Jubilee had disappeared somewhere over the course of the conversation.

“I’d better go look for her..” The teapot settled himself on his trolley and wheeled out of the room.

* * *

Susan was startled by the sound of someone knocking on her door, very low down. She wondered what _else_ was living in this castle. Deciding that it couldn’t hurt to look, she opened the door and looked down.

“Hiya!” greeted a chipped teacup. The teacup looked her up and down. “Whoa… you really _are_ pretty!”

Susan let out a wet, surprised little laugh. “A teacup?”

The teacup grinned and hopped into her room. “My name’s Jubilee! What’s yours?”

Susan smiled at the teacup, hurt giving way to an involuntary charm. “Susan.”

“Susan!” the teacup repeated, turning around. “I like it! So whatcha doin’ here, Susan?”

“I..” Susan sat down on her bed, facing the teacup. “I’m not sure. This morning, I was going to get married… and this afternoon, I wasn’t.”

The teacup wrinkled her handle-like nose. “You were gonna get _married?_ To who!”

“Reed…”

The teacup frowned. “You mean that guy that was in here earlier?”

Susan smiled sadly. “Yes.”

The teacup gave her an incredulous, mildly disgusted look. “You can do better than that.”

Susan laughed. “It’s good to hear _someone_ thinks so… but he really is a nice man. He can provide for me, and he listens to me… most of the time. He smiles a lot. He’s really a very nice person.”

The teacup remained skeptical. “Whatever, it’s your wedding. So how long’re you staying?”

Susan was quiet for a moment. “...I don’t know.”

“You don’t know?!” the teacup repeated.

Before Susan could answer, a crisp male voice rung out. _“There_ you are!” A teapot wheeled into the room on a small trolley. “I should have known.” He glanced up at Susan. “Hello, Susan. I’m sorry if my step-daughter has bothered you…”

Susan smiled. “She hasn’t. Your step-daughter..?”

The teapot nodded. “Yes. She’s adopted, and has always known such.”

“Yer still my daddy,” stated the teacup with an adoring grin.

The teapot smiled warmly back in kind.

“Oh.” Susan supposed she should cease to be surprised by whatever was going on in this castle. “Who’s her mother?”

The teapot’s eyes widened, and steam came out of the spout that doubled as his nose. The teacup’s eyes widened and she burst out laughing so hard she fell over.

Susan’s eyebrows furrowed. She wondered what she’d said.

“She doesn’t have one,” mumbled the teapot. “Erm. If you’ll excuse me. I do hate to be rude. Um. Are you hungry at all?” He was still visibly uncomfortable and it was obvious that he wanted to change the subject.

“I am, actually,” Susan affirmed.

“Brilliant, brilliant,” the teapot murmured almost to himself. “Well then, if you’ll just follow me, Miss, we can take you to the kitchen.”

The teacup kept snickering.

* * *

Susan followed the teapot all the way to the kitchen, observing the castle as she went. The whole castle exuded an air of melancholy and neglect. Susan wasn’t sure how half of this stuff was cleaned, but she wondered if there were servants who ought to clean, and wondered if she ought to help them. Perhaps they had been shrunk into feather dusters and whatnot, and couldn’t reach high places anymore. But then, the floor was just as dusty as the ceiling.

She never did make it to the kitchen. Once the teapot attempted to enter, he was stopped by a smooth voice with a thick accent, and she was told to sit down in one of the large ornate chairs at the long, covered table in the dining room.

She was shocked at the speed with which an unimaginable amount of dishes were presented to her. She’d never tasted the majority of them before. The candelabra seemed insistent that she taste every dish; he assured her that they were all delicious. And they were.

As the meal wound down, she found herself wondering aloud, “So how did all of you end up this way?” She felt a bit rude for asking, but the curiosity was eating at her.

The clock and the candelabra exchanged a look. “What do you mean, ‘this way’?” inquired the clock.

Susan’s cheeks blushed pink as she played with her fingers. “Well… you’re a talking clock, and _you’re_ a talking candle…”

“Candelabra, chere,” the candelabra corrected. “An’ we weren’ always dis way.”

The teapot shifted uneasily. “We suspect the spell has something to do with the Master.”

“You mean that---?” she didn’t want to say ‘beast’ or ‘monster.’

“That hairy fellow,” the clock supplied. “Yes.”

“Again, we are not certain,” the teapot added, “but from what he told us, it seems a spell was cast on him, and it affected the rest of us.”

Susan frowned. “That’s not fair.”

The teapot smiled sympathetically at her. “Maybe not, but it’s not so bad. We all learned to get around; we can still do our jobs.”

“Eet is harder tuh get de ladies though,” complained the candelabra.

“I.. w-wouldn’t know.” The teapot’s nose steamed again.

Susan peered curiously at the teapot.

The teapot cleared his throat. “Can we interest you in dessert, madame?”

Susan laughed. “Oh, no! I’m very full, thanks.”

“Den we’d best get ya tuh your room, chere.” The candelabra hopped to the floor. “Monsieur would not lahke tuh see ya lahke dis.”

Susan wondered what he meant by that, but the clock was agreeing and also hopping to the floor. “Yes, I quite agree, although it is regrettably so. The Master most certainly would _not_ like to see her up and about, and so happy…”

Susan frowned curiously at the two of them.

The candelabra sighed. “It’s hard to explain, chere.”

“Just please,” said the clock, “Come with us.”

So she did.

* * *

Johnny had wooed every girl in town. The blond triplets currently admiring him were his last conquest, and he was completely confident that he had succeeded in coaxing a crush out of all three of them.

As he sprawled across the large chair in front of the fireplace, drinking his sixth mug of weak beer, he realized he was a little bored himself. Being admired by all the townspeople was awesome, but after a while it got kind of boring. He needed a bigger audience.

And where the hell was Susan? She’d said she’d be there that night, and the pub was already winding down. People were starting to leave. The regulars were staying and drinking themselves into debt. The triplets were giggling about something in the corner, but each wink he sent their way felt a little more boring. Sleeping with triplets would be _awesome,_ but the girls in this town never put out on the first night, and he wasn’t really in a hurry to _marry_ anyone.

He was just contemplating getting a seventh mug of beer when Reed Richards stumbled into the place. Johnny glanced up at him, mildly bored.

Reed Richards was as white as a sheet, and trembling all over. His clothes were torn, and he had white streaks at his temples that hadn’t been there this morning.

Johnny sat up, mildly interested.

“Johnny!” Reed exclaimed, stumbling towards him. “You’ve gotta help me! Susan’s been locked in a castle!!”

Johnny raised an eyebrow. “What.”

Reed launched into an emphatic ramble about how he’d been on his way to Paris when his horse got sidetracked- “Really? You’re blaming this on your _horse?”_ Johnny had interjected; Reed had continued on- about how he wound up being chased by wolves to the gates of this dark castle, and inside was this dark threatening beast with a human voice that wasn’t quite human. He described the creature as ten feet tall, with goat’s horns, lion’s feet, and a horrible, twisted face. He claimed the creature was completely covered in hair.

Everyone in the pub had fallen silent and was staring at Reed as though he’d sprouted a second head. One of the drunks at the bar muttered, “Loony…”

“It’s the truth, I tell you!” Reed insisted.

Johnny nodded, not believing a word of it. “Okay. Uh.. whatever you’ve been drinking? Stop.”

Reed stared at him, betrayed. “You… you don’t believe me?”

Johnny was indeed looking at Reed as though Reed belonged in a mental asylum.

Reed smoothed his newly white temples. “You don’t believe me,” he repeated grimly.

“Nnnope,” Johnny confirmed.

Reed laughed bitterly. “I should’ve known. You were always thick-headed, Johnny, but I thought you at _least_ cared about your sister.”

Johnny bristled. “Of course I care about my sister!”

“Then why won’t you go after her!”

“Why won’t _you?!”_ Johnny challenged, standing at his full height, fists clenched.

The thin brown-haired man squared off against the muscular blond man. Johnny was just a bit taller.

“You don’t think I would if I could?! That-- that _monster_ threw me out!”

“So go back!” This seemed a perfect solution to Johnny. If there really was some sort of gothic monster that hated Reed, he wouldn’t be sorry for a second to see him go.

“I can’t!!”

“Why not!”

“Because he’ll just throw me out again!!”

“How do you _know_ that!”

They were standing mere inches apart. And all Johnny saw in Reed’s eyes was fear. Johnny straightened his spine until he was standing at his full height.

“You’re too chicken, ain’t you.”

There were muffled snickers throughout the pub.

Reed glowered at him and stormed out.

* * *

Later that night, Johnny wondered if there had been any merit to Reed’s story. The guy was obviously off his rocker on _some_ thing, so Johnny believed maybe about half of what he’d said with a huge grain of salt, but maybe Susan really _was_ in trouble somewhere.

Johnny shrugged it off and told himself he’d visit Susan tomorrow.

* * *

Susan couldn’t sleep. She had no idea what time it was; all she knew was it was dark, and despite her emotionally challenging day, she was restless.

She pulled back the covers and padded out of her room, taking an inanimate candle with her.

The castle was silent, except for the soft sound of her footsteps on the carpet that ran along the center of the halls. The castle was so beautiful when everyone was asleep. She took time to admire the statues that held up various pillars; some were carved to resemble lions, others more closely resembled wolves. She reached out to touch a wolf’s tooth on a snarling statue. She wondered at the anger in their faces, wondered if the architect had been as melancholy and dark-mooded as this castle seems to indicate, or if perhaps the castle had been more beautiful and less frightening before it was cursed.

She wondered, too, as she walked and admired a hallway lined with empty suits of armor, who had worn this armor, whether anyone had ever fought in it, or if it was just for decoration. Wondered who owned this castle, and why its master had been cursed.

Her fingers trailed along a marble railing as she made her way down a hallway she’d never entered before. This hallway was particularly dark. It seemed the farther down this hallway she walked, the more shredded the carpet and tapestries were. But they were old tears; whatever had torn up this hallway had done so long ago. So she wasn’t afraid. Just.. curious.

She opened a door at the end of the hallway, noting that the doorhandle was a ring through a lion’s roaring mouth.

This room was almost certainly the messiest room in the castle. Chairs were overturned, tapestries hung in unrecognizable shreds, curtain rods lay propped at odd angles against walls or scattered across the floor. Random objects were strewn everywhere- clothes and boxes and pieces of furniture- but in the middle of it all stood a small, round table made of dark stained wood. This oasis in the midst of the chaos was highlighted by a floating red rose in a bell jar. The rose itself was glowing.

Susan reached out to touch the bell jar. She was entranced by the rose. She wondered if it was part of the spell; had it been a person? Who could it be? Had someone given it to him? What did the rose mean, and why was it floating?

She carefully lifted up the bell jar and set it gently on the table, next to the floating rose. She smoothed back an errant lock of wavy blonde hair and reached out to touch the rose.

Her fingers were just about to graze its petals when suddenly a huge shadow towered over her. She gasped and withdrew her hand, backing away from the table. The shadowy figure snatched the bell jar and covered the rose with it. “What are you doing in here?!” the beast bellowed. “Didn’t I tell you to never enter the west wing?! Do you have _any idea what you could have done?!”_ His voice grew louder with every question.

“I-- I was--”

“GET OUT!!!” the beast roared, startling Susan so much that she bolted out of the room.

Her heart was pounding. His teeth had been mere inches from her face as he’d roared. She rushed past the servants who had been woken by the beast’s roaring, threw on a borrowed cloak, and raced out the door.

Ben was nuzzling through the newly fallen snow in an attempt to find grass. He raised his head as soon as she ran down the stairs towards him.

Susan grabbed his mane, leapt on his back, flung open the gates, and urged him into a full gallop.

She hadn’t gotten very far into the woods before she noticed the howling of wolves. Ben was galloping flat-out, yet still the howling grew closer. When Susan saw the first pair of glowing eyes, she knew they’d have to keep running if they were going to survive. Ben seemed to have no intention of slowing down, but she urged him onwards anyways.

More pairs of glowing eyes appeared. There were at least six or seven wolves closing in on them-- no wait, there were a few more-- their sleek black-and-gray bodies loped nearer and nearer Ben, as though running at this pace meant nothing to them. Wolves started snapping at her heels.

The wolves had herded Ben off the path and into the forest. She had no idea where they were. They were cold and lost and surrounded by wolves, but Susan was determined not to die. She tore a branch from a nearby tree and fended the wolves off with it for as long as she could, brandishing her weapon like a sword. A particularly large wolf snapped his jaws around the end of the branch; there was a loud splintering crack as the branch broke. The large wolf backed off, mouth wide open, jaw working oddly to get the splinters out of his mouth, but another wolf leapt toward her.

Just as that wolf was about to land on her and bite her shoulder, the wolf was suddenly thrown aside by a large figure to her left. Susan realized with shock, as the creature roared into the wolf’s face, threw the wolf into the snow, and surrounded her with his body like a cage, that this creature was the beast from the castle.

The beast fought off all the wolves, incapacitating several by throwing them against nearby trees, until the wolves left. In the struggle, the beast was bitten several times, including a nasty bite on his arm.

Once the wolves were gone, the beast glanced at her, tired and relieved, and promptly fainted into the snow.

Susan was quite shaken and uncertain what to do. She untangled Ben’s reins from a tree, where they’d snagged when she’d been thrown from his back, and was about to mount him once more when she glanced at the unconscious figure lying in the snow, mighty arms outstretched, blood staining the whiteness beneath his arm. She glanced from Ben, to the beast, and back again a few times.

With a sigh, she realized that the right thing to do was to hoist the beast onto Ben’s back and take him back to the castle.

* * *

Susan and Logan had returned to the castle in the wee hours of the morning. The servants had scrambled to help, asking Susan what had happened, and she had filled them in as best she could; now the beast was propped up in his favorite chair in front of the fireplace, and Susan was warning him “This might sting a little” before applying a warm, damp washcloth to the wound on his arm.

He roared. “That hurt!” He pulled his arm away.

“Well if you’d hold still it wouldn’t hurt as much!”

“If you hadn’t run away, this wouldn’t have happened!”

“If you hadn’t frightened me, I wouldn’t have run away!”

The beast glowered at her. “Well _you_ shouldn’t have been in the west wing!”

“Well _you_ should learn to control your temper!”

The beast had no comeback for this. His servants had been telling him this for years. Coming from her though? It was downright embarrassing.

“Now then… hold still.” She applied the cloth again.

The beast winced and made a pained growl.

“By the way,” she said, dabbing gently at his arm, “Thank you…”

The beast looked at her curiously.

“For saving my life,” she explained.

The beast’s gaze softened. “...You’re welcome.” He cleared his throat as she dipped the cloth and wrung it out again. It came out as more of a growl.

She paused only momentarily before dabbing his arm again.

“Logan,” he said. She glanced up at him. “My name is Logan,” he explained.

A small smile played across her lips. “Susan.”

Logan wasn’t sure what happened just then, but he felt a certain…  _warmth_ between them that hadn’t been there before. Maybe he was just imagining things.

* * *

Johnny was pretty sure this was crazy, and Reed was crazy, or high, or drunk, or _something,_ but Susan hadn’t shown up at the pub like she’d said she would. He told himself that giving her a good-natured ribbing on that regard, and maybe poking fun at the plot of whatever book she’d probably had her head buried in the whole time, were his real reasons for knocking on her cottage door late the next morning.

But there was no answer.

“Susan?” he called.

No answer.

He figured she was either asleep, due to staying up reading too late, or she was out running errands.

He knocked again. “Susan?”

No answer.

He shrugged, ignored the twisty feeling in his gut, and told himself he’d try again later.

* * *

Charles had an almost cheeky smile on his face when he greeted Susan at her door around eleven in the morning. “The Master would like you to join him for breakfast,” he announced.

Susan rubbed her eyes sleepily. “What time is it?”

“An hour before noon.”

Susan yawned. “That late..?” She was surprised, but also hungry. “Tell him I’ll be down in a minute…”

Charles smiled. “I’ll wait.”

Susan closed her door.

She emerged minutes later in a warm light blue dress with white fur trim.

Charles regarded her changed appearance with a kind smile. “You look beautiful.”

Susan paused in the middle of tying her hair back. “Really?” She thought for sure her undereye circles would throw people off, if nothing else. She was almost certain she had bedhead.

Charles noted that her hair was fluffy and ever-so-slightly mussed. “You really do.” He turned. “Now then, off to breakfast!”

* * *

Breakfast was surprisingly… pleasant. The food was excellent, as always. The room was bright with sunshine. Logan kept glancing up at her across the table. Susan kept looking away, unsure how to react. Everyone seemed to be under the assumption that Susan was staying with them indefinitely. And while Susan was in no hurry to be eaten by wolves again, she wasn’t exactly sure she wanted to stay either.

Still. Everyone was being so nice to her. Most of them looked at her with some level of hope in their eyes, as though she was some sort of hero. Susan wasn’t sure what to make of that, but she was enjoying the geniality of the servants.

After breakfast, Logan seemed uncomfortable and eager to be out of her presence. This suited Susan just fine, seeing as being around him was making her feel awkward as well. Susan was aware of an undercurrent in the room, but she couldn’t place a finger on what the undercurrent was; all she knew was it eased quite a bit once Logan was elsewhere.

“Would ya lahke a formal tour of de castle, chere?” offered the candelabra.

“Hmmm.” Susan considered this.

“Mah friend here c’n tell ya all sorts of fascinatin’ trivia abou’ de castle,” he further offered, elbowing his friend the clock.

The clock rubbed his brass elbow. “Yes, well. That’s not exactly… inaccurate. -And Remy, I thought you found my trivia fascinating.” He sounded a bit hurt.

“Ah’ve heard it a thousan’ times, mon ami.” He patted the clock on the back.

“Well I haven’t,” Susan piped up. “But I’m sure I’d love to.”

Thus, the clock led her on a very verbose tour of the castle with hundreds of details she was bound to forget.

* * *

Johnny tried Susan’s door again mid-afternoon.

No answer.

He figured she was probably still out running errands, but just in case, he decided to start asking around town to see if anyone had seen Susan.

He started casually at first, claiming he lost track of his absent-minded sister. He leaned against things, asked passers-by with a lazy smile.

But the more he heard, “No, I haven’t seen her since yesterday,” the more worried he grew.

That evening, after asking the majority of people in town, he banged on Reed’s door. He hated the cowardly asshole, but he had this feeling he couldn’t shake.

Reed answered the door, clutching his head. “Quiet, quiet!” he hissed. He smelled like whiskey and looked like hell.

“Are you _drunk?”_

 Reed swayed on his feet. “Do you have _any idea_ what time it is?” Reed slurred.

“Yeah, you drunk ass, it’s seven-thirty in the evening. Why the fuck are you so plastered?”

Reed shook a finger at him. “Told you… Beast took… Susan.” He hiccoughed.

Johnny sighed heavily. “Yeah but _where?”_

 Reed shook a finger at him again. “Right in the… woods.”

“What woods!”

Reed hiccoughed again and swayed heavily on his feet, downing another heavy swig from the flask in his pocket. He wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. “Come back tomorrow.” He hiccoughed and closed the door.

Johnny was about 10,000% sure that Reed wasn’t going to be much more help tomorrow. He banged on the door again but all he got was a muffled “fuck off!”

So that’s exactly what he did. Throwing Reed two unseen fingers on the way.

* * *

Susan mostly enjoyed the extravagant spread before her that constituted her dinner that night, but for the fact that Logan kept staring at her. She wasn’t sure why he kept staring at her; at first she thought perhaps she had something in her teeth, or she was wearing her clothes wrong. But after checking her physical appearance in every nearby reflective surface, she was certain that there was nothing errant about her appearance; nevertheless Logan’s eyes remained trained on her throughout the duration of the meal.

“Yes?” she said after about half an hour of silence and awkward staring.

Logan grunted and lowered his eyes. “Nothin’.”

Susan let out an exasperated sigh. “You’ve been staring at the past half hour because of _nothing.”_

 Logan shrugged- or at least, it looked sort of like a shrug. His furry forearms moved at what would be the shoulder junction, at any rate.

“What! What is it! Why does everyone keep looking at me?”

Logan mumbled something.

“What?” Susan half-stood, leaning across the table to hear him better. That was another thing that was getting on her nerves; sitting at one end of a very long table, when he was sitting way down at the other end. He claimed he wanted to dine with her, then ate halfway across the room.

“Because you’re beautiful!” Logan repeated loudly, slamming his fists on the table. His eyes widened and he stood abruptly. “Excuse me.” He turned and stalked out of the room before she could react, leaving Susan there, half-leaning over the table, blushing.

* * *

Breakfast the next morning had a completely different atmosphere than dinner had the night before. Logan was avoiding Susan’s eyes, and he was eating as fast as he could.

Susan, meanwhile, picked at her food and kept glancing up at Logan.

“Do you see what Ah see?” the candelabra said under his breath to the clock.

“The air certainly does seem to have shifted, yes. I wonder what happened.”

“There was a bit of an outburst at dinner last night,” supplied the teapot. All three were across the room, far out of earshot.

The candelabra and the clock turned curiously towards the teapot. “What kind of outburst?” the candelabra pressed.

The teapot smirked. “The good kind.”

The candelabra shook his head. “Tha’s not fair, mon ami. Dere is no good kind of outburst.”

“What did he say?” inquired the clock.

The teapot chuckled to himself. “He called her beautiful.”

The candelabra’s eyes lit up. “No!”

“Yes,” the teapot confirmed.

“And she…?”

All three pairs of eyes turned towards Susan, who was watching Logan push away from the table and stalk out of the room. She resumed eating once Logan was out of sight, but only picked at a few more small bites before calling quits on breakfast.

“Ah t’ink,” claimed the candelabra, “dat dere is some’in’ dere dat wasn’ dere before.”

* * *

Johnny figured maybe he was being paranoid. Okay, so he hadn’t seen his sister for one day. Big deal. Happened all the time. She was grown up, and he was grown up, and they lived in separate houses now. Cottages. Whatever. Point was going a day without seeing her wasn’t usually a big deal.

Except that he couldn’t shake this weird feeling, and he didn’t like it one bit.

He asked around again, “Has anyone seen my sister?” and the answer was invariably, “no.”

* * *

Susan was startled out of the pages of a novel she’d borrowed from the castle’s library by the sound of heavy footsteps coming to a stop nearby. A shadow fell across the pages. “Yes?” she said, turning and looking up.

Logan stood over her, wearing a heavy cloak. “It’s nice outside today.” He clenched and unclenched his front paws.

“Is it?” she inquired, voice level.

“Yeah,” he affirmed, “It is.” He shifted his weight awkwardly. The candelabra, unseen by Susan, nudged one of Logan’s legs, sending him half a step forward. “Didja… maybe wanna see the castle grounds?”

Susan regarded him for a moment, taking in his avoidant eyes and his awkward stance. A half-smile alighted upon her lips. “I’d love to.” She placed a bookmark in the novel and set it down on a nearby table.

Logan led her to a closet containing dozens of coats, cloaks, and boots. She found a pair of boots that fit, slipped into a warm light green coat, and followed his awkward stride outdoors.

The sunlight was beautiful, reflecting off of the newly fallen snow. Branches dripped, their frost melting in the sunlight. Birds twittered and flitted about. Susan’s feet crunched quietly through the snow behind Logan, who silently led the way. She began to wonder if he was going to talk at all until they rounded the back of the castle and happened upon a walkway.

“This is the garden,” he commented gruffly, sweeping a hand out to indicate several twiggy bushes and a sad-looking tree. The walkway was extensive, looping around itself several times and curving all over the place, but the grounds were mostly bare.

“Statues,” he indicated, pointing to several sculptures of more bear- and wolf- and lion-like things, all of which seemed poised to fight.

“Pond.” He pointed to a wide, low indentation in the snow. “It’s probably not frozen over yet. Or at least, not enough to go skating. Not that I ever do.”

Susan didn’t have much time to contemplate this before Logan led her further back into the castle grounds. “And woods.” He indicated the long stretch of naked deciduous trees and browning conifers. “Used tuh go hunting in ‘em. But the woods outside the castle are bigger, so.” He shrugged. Paused for a moment. Shrugged again. “Now you’ve seen the castle grounds.”

Susan watched him curiously. “Is that… all you wanted to show me?”

Logan spun around, frowning and quirking an eyebrow. “What _else_ do you think I wanted to show you?”

Susan backed away half a step. “I don’t know. You seemed eager to have me out here, so I was just wondering…”

“Have you?” he repeated, throat dry. He cleared his throat and squared his shoulders. “No, I just thought you’d enjoy the weather. It gets cold here in winter, so. Enjoy it while you can.”

“Oh..” she said as he stalked off towards the castle.

He paused and glanced over his shoulder. “You comin’?”

Odd happiness flitted through her. “Yes,” she agreed with a smile.

“Then get the lead out.” He started stalking towards the castle again.

Susan snorted. _Lead?!_ She was gonna show that fuzzball. She scooped a handful of snow and patted it into a ball as she walked. Once it was fairly globular, she chucked it at his back. The snowball shattered against his cloak.

Logan stopped and stood there for a second before slowly turning around. “Did you just…?”

Susan was holding another half-formed snowball.

He glanced at her hands just before she threw it.

“All right, yer askin’ for it!” Logan grinned and scooped up a huge snowball.

Susan hit him with another one, causing him to drop his huge snowball on his head. He looked so comical, sitting on the ground with a surprised expression, snow encrusting his features, that Susan couldn’t help but laugh.

They chased each other around the castle grounds for the better part of an hour, lobbing snowballs at each other.

Susan was uncontestedly winning.

High above their heads, in a window in the castle which neither had bothered to look in, a candelabra was elbowing the clock next to him so much that for once, the clock was glad he had brass arms, because otherwise he was sure he’d have a bruise.

* * *

Logan and Susan sat in front of the fireplace, wrapped in warm blankets and sipping warm tea. They were discussing books they’d read.

Logan had forgot how much he loved his library. Susan had read so many of the same books; turned out her favorite genre was adventure. That was Logan’s favorite genre as well. The way she talked about these books brought them to life all over again. He loved watching the way her face lit up when she described characters and events, loved how animated she got when describing the plotlines. He thought he could watch her all day.

He also felt a bit stupid for forgetting he had a library all of these years. No one had touched it in so long; to think he could have been passing the time wrapped up in Jules Verne or Daniel Defoe.

He made a silent promise to himself, as he smiled quietly by the firelight, that he was going to read another novel very soon.

* * *

Johnny pounded on Reed’s door again.

The bastard didn’t answer.

* * *

Johnny pounded on Reed’s door every day for two more days before giving up and deciding to find his sister himself. He stole one of Reed’s horses to do it, just to spite him.

* * *

Several day had passed, and with each day the meals grew more interesting, until one night at dinner, Logan was wearing a blue-and-gold suit, and Susan was wearing a pale gold dress, violin music was playing softly over the candlelight, and Susan thought ‘why not.’ They always ate just down the hall from the ballroom. _Why not._

 

She took a fortifying sip of wine, dabbed her mouth with a napkin, stood, and crossed to the other end of the table. “Dance with me,” she suggested. It was a request, yet not a question.

Logan visibly gulped before taking her hands, standing, and following her lead to the ballroom.

Remy LeBeau had been anticipating this for days. He whispered a command that brought all the candles in the room to life. The room filled with music.

Susan pulled Logan a little closer and started them off in a waltz.

After the initial shock wore off, Logan smirked and led her powerfully around the dance floor, dipping and twirling her in a way he hadn’t danced in years, yet somehow he remembered every step. It was wonderful having such a trusting partner in his arms-- and it hit him like an arrow to the heart, that she _trusted_ him. The way she was smiling up at him, the way she relaxed in his arms, couldn’t mean anything else.

His heart fluttered when she rested her cheek against his chest. He glanced up and met the grin of the candelabra across the room, who was making encouraging gestures and conducting the music. LeBeau slowed the pace of the music and quieted the lights, so Logan and Susan were left in a quiet ballroom with soft candlelight and sweet, slow music.

Feeling far too warm under his collar, Logan led Susan onto the balcony.

Susan blushed and straightened her dress, avoided his eyes.

Logan straightened his suit, shifted awkwardly, avoided her eyes. “Look at the stars,” he rasped.

Susan did look at the stars. They were beautiful; “So many!” she exclaimed.

“I have this view every night,” Logan stated. “Somehow it never gets old.”

“I wish I could see them…”

Logan raised an eyebrow. “You can see them right now.”

Susan blushed. “I know. I mean.. to go up there,” she indicated with her hand, “to get close enough to touch them…”

Logan brought her hand down between his own large, heavy paws. “What, is Earth not good enough fer ya?”

Susan smiled and looked away. “Earth is great…”

Logan didn’t miss the ‘but’ at the end of that statement. “But…?” he supplied, sitting closer.

“I’m so tired of always being cooped up in one place. First it was a house in the countryside, then a cottage in a small town, now a castle… I just want to go places, explore!”

Logan’s heart sank. “So you feel… trapped.”

Susan gently pulled her hand away. “Yes.”

Logan stared out into the forest. This was the hardest thing he’d ever had to say, but he knew deep down that he had to. “Then I release you.”

“What?” She sat up straighter, breathless.

“You are no longer my prisoner.” Logan wouldn’t meet her eyes. “You’re free to go.”

“Oh! Oh, Logan!” She threw her arms around him, pressing his misshapen face to her chest.

He hugged her back until she let go.

“Thank you so much for understanding!” She squeezed his shoulder. “I’ll never forget you…”

Logan placed a paw over her hand. “I’ll never forget you either.”

Susan smiled and withdrew her hand.

Without another word, she was gone.

* * *

“Tha’ was mahvelous, monsieur! She was eatin’ out de palm of ya hand! so tuh speak.”

“Yes, that went quite well, I must concur!” agreed the clock.

“I let her go,” Logan whispered, heart aching, staring at the wilting rose.

“You-- what?”

“I let her go,” Logan repeated, clutching the sides of the table.

LeBeau and McCoy turned to each other, stunned.

“But… _why?”_

 “Because,” Logan responded, certain this spell would never be broken, “I love her.”

* * *

Susan had not gone far into the woods when she found her idiot brother riding around on one of Reed’s horses, bellowing her name and holding a torch above his head.

“Johnny!” she shouted back.

“Susan?!” He whirled around to face her.

Susan trotted her mount alongside Johnny’s. “What are you doing here?”

“Looking for you! No one’s seen you in days, and Reed keeps getting drunk every night, I tried to ask him where you were and he wouldn’t tell me. Where the fuck have you been?”

Susan led their mounts back towards the town. “What did Reed tell you?”

“See, now I’m worried ‘cause you’re not looking at me and you’re not telling me where you’ve been, and what Reed said was completely crazy.”

“What did he say?”

Johnny huffed a sigh. “He said you were locked in a dungeon by this ten-foot-tall hairy monster thing that was super-ugly and probably gonna murder someone. And maybe eat them after. I don’t know. He’s gotten kind of sketchy on the details. But he’s been drunk off his rocker for the past like, week, so I have no idea how much of that is crazy and how much of that is at least sort-of accurate. Now you gonna tell me what the fuck happened?”

“Yeah…” Susan said, not elaborating.

Johnny’s eyes bore into her.

Susan sighed. “After we get home.”

* * *

Reed woke up in the middle of the night in a cold sweat and poured himself half a glass of scotch. He’d had a dream that Susan’s eyes were being ripped out by the claws on the end of the monster’s fingers.

No matter how drunk he got, the dreams wouldn’t stop.

He decided he’d had enough.

There was only one way to stop it.

Reed downed his scotch and started shoving things into a bag- map, compass, three flasks of whiskey, a hunting knife he’d never used except on gutting chickens. He stumbled out the door into the snow and made his way toward the woods on-foot.

* * *

Susan was silent all the way home. Once they got to her cottage, Johnny insisted he was going to stay the night, even if it meant sleeping on her couch. Susan was so out-of-it by that point, she didn’t care.

Susan fell into a restless sleep. She woke up several times throughout the night. For some reason, everything just felt _wrong._

* * *

Logan didn’t sleep that night. His temper was extra-short the next day.

He prowled around the castle, sulking, pointing out flaws about everything.

Only his most loyal servants didn’t avoid him.

He fell asleep early that night and didn’t wake until late into the next day.

* * *

Susan was eerily quiet, and it was driving Johnny up a wall. He kept asking her what happened, and she kept dodging the question.

Eventually he slammed his fists on the table and demanded she tell him something.

Susan regarded him for a long moment before saying, “Reed wasn’t… completely inaccurate.”

Johnny waited for her to continue.

She fiddled with her fingers. “There _was_ a man, who looked… more animal than human. And he _did_ throw Reed in a dungeon cell. But he released him, and he put me in a beautiful room with a comfortable bed, and gave me free reign of the castle; he gave me food and clothes and let me do whatever I wanted; there were servants there and they were _all_ so nice, like they really wanted to take care of me, and I almost miss them, it’s just, I couldn’t take being cooped up there any longer, I don’t want to be cooped up _anywhere,_ and I thought what I wanted was to get out, but ever since I did, I can’t shake the feeling that I shouldn’t have left…”

Johnny stared at her, shocked. “You’re telling me you were kidnapped by a ten-foot monster and you want to go _back?”_

Susan thought for a moment, then nodded.

Johnny stared at her. He stared for a long moment, the wheels turning in his head. Then he stood up. “Okay.”

“Okay?”

“You wanna go back? We’ll take you back. But sleep on it, okay? We’re not taking you back in the dark.” He kicked off his boots and settled on the couch again. “‘sides, I kinda wanna see what all the fuss is about.”

* * *

It was dark by the time Reed found the castle. He’d heard the occasional scurrying of a wild animal, but none had approached him.

Reed opened the gates and stalked in. It had been a long walk, and his feet were tired. There were three things he really wanted right now: a chair, something hot and alcoholic, and the beast’s decapitated head.

“Hello?” he called into the castle, ready to fight if necessary.

The clock and the candelabra seemed excited to see him at first, then disappointed. “You’re back?” the clock inquired.

“Yes… I’m awfully tired, and I need a place to stay for the night.” He clutched the outline of the sheathed knife within his bag. “Has anyone seen my fiancee?”

“Fiancee?” retorted the candelabra.

“Yes.. Susan. I’ve been looking for her.”

“She left,” supplied the clock.

“Oh.” Reed swayed on his feet.

“Come, mon ami,” offered the candelabra, feeling uneasy. “Let us wahm you by de fire.”

One hot alcoholic drink later, Reed passed out in the beast’s favorite chair.

* * *

Reed woke up the next morning with a raging headache, covered once more in a cold sweat. He blearily glanced at his surroundings, confused and afraid at first, then realized where he was and took out his knife.

It was time to put the nightmares to an end.

He stalked through the castle, calling “Suzie? Suzieee!” and taking swigs of whiskey. Hardly anyone was around. He was growing frustrated at the lack of furniture to lash out at. “Suzie!” he began calling more sharply, alternating between soft tones of phrases like, “Come on, I know you’re still here,” and “Why don’t you come to your fiance?”

In his room, Logan woke to the sound of a man’s voice calling for ‘Suzie.’ He took a long moment to realize what that meant.

Logan rolled heavily out of his large bed and dragged himself to the door, not wanting to deal with this crap today. He’d just glare at the guy and tell him to leave.

Except when he did that, the guy turned his feverish glance on Logan and accused, “YOU!!” before lunging at him with a hunting knife.

Logan dodged the first few drunken swings, but when Reed managed to slice a strip across Logan’s arm, things got personal. Logan started snapping at him, swiping his large paws this way and that, claws curved for maximum damage. He blocked as many blows as he attempted.

The brawl shifted more towards the center of the castle, where more people could see them. Reed was shouting completely wild things at Logan, and Logan was fighting him off more out of annoyance than anything else.

Everything came to an abrupt halt when the doors to the castle flung open and Susan rushed into the foyer. “Logan!” she called, eyes widening with worry and shock when she caught sight of the two figures.

“Susan!” he called with relief.

Reed was so incensed by this exchange that he sent the hunting knife plunging directly into Logan’s chest, to the left of his sternum.

Logan roared in pain and knocked Reed off the balcony. He fell headfirst to the floor and landed with a sickening crack.

Susan raced toward Logan, calling out his name.

Logan was clutching his chest. He crumpled to the ground.

Susan leaned knelt next to him and reached out to touch the knife, the spreading crimson stain underneath. “No!” she kept whispering, “No!”

Johnny stood, shocked, in the middle of the foyer.

Nearby, the clock, candelabra, and teapot were all huddled together, also watching in shock.

Logan coughed and looked up at Susan. “You… you came back.”

“Of course I came back!” She reached out to touch his paw. “I couldn’t just..! Oh, Logan, this is all my fault!”

Logan smirked. “What, this? How is me bein’ an asshole your fault?”

She shook her head in protest, tears gathering. “You’re not! You’re not though! Oh, Logan, I’m so sorry!”

Logan’s smile turned gentle. “At least… I got to see you…” He reached up to card a finger through her hair. “...One last time.”

Dread stabbed her heart like a cold blade. “No-!” she whispered. “No, please, don’t leave me!” Her voice rose in pitch and volume.

Logan’s eyes rolled shut and his head came to rest on the floor. He exhaled, and did not inhale again.

Susan collapsed on his chest in quiet sobs. “Please,” she sobbed, “Please don’t leave me!” She pulled him closer, burying her face against his chest, heedless of the blood. “I love you.”

Johnny wasn’t sure what shocked him more- the fact that Reed was here, the fact that Reed was _dead_ a mere twenty yards away from him, or the fact that his sister was now sobbing over the body of what turned out to be an _actual ten-foot monster._

He decided his shock-level was upped when the body started _floating._

Susan thought at first that he wasn’t dead after all, that he was going to be okay, but then she saw the colored streaks of sparkles cascading to the ground around them like rain, noticed the soft glow that had enveloped Logan’s body, and with wide eyes, she backed away.

The candelabra elbowed the teapot and the clock simultaneously. All three stared in awe.

Logan’s body was floating vertically now, surrounded in white light and cascading rainbow sparkles. He glowed brighter and brighter, a paw becoming a hand here, a foot there, until there was this blinding light and he was suddenly lowered to the ground by a gentle unseen force.

Susan took a tentative step toward his body, but backed away again when he shifted.

Logan pushed first to his hands and knees, which he examined, back turned to her, then to his feet. He turned around and faced her.

Susan gasped. The man standing before her was only a few inches taller than her, wearing clothes that were much too big, revealing a muscular chest covered in hair reminiscent of the fur she’d grown so used to. His features were gruff, yet refined, and undeniably handsome. His hair was wild, his shoulders broad. But what arrested her most were his _eyes._

Logan’s eyes were warm and brown, exactly like the eyes she’d been staring into for the past week. She knew those eyes anywhere. “Logan…?” Her feet led her forward before she had time to think about it.

Logan closed the distance until there were only a few inches between them. “Susan… it’s me!” He seemed overjoyed.

Susan had never seen a smile so handsome. Her lips parted involuntarily. She reached out to trace his eyebrow, staring into his eyes. “But how…?”

Logan smiled gently at her. “Guess you broke the spell.” He caressed her cheek with the back of his hand and tucked an errant lock of hair behind her ear.

“Logan…!” she whispered, amazed.

Logan brought his gentle smile closer until their lips were touching.

Once Susan kissed him back, they wrapped their arms around each other and started really kissing, and Johnny couldn’t look at them anymore-- but suddenly there was a whole helluva lot to look at, because the whole fucking castle was changing around them! Gray turned to white, dimly lit rooms became bright, and all around him furniture was turning into people! Including, but not limited to, a kindly-looking bald man in a wheelchair, a skinny man with glasses, and a ruggedly handsome man with auburn hair, all three of which were beaming at Logan and Susan until the ruggedly handsome man caught Johnny’s eye and turned his blindingly handsome grin on him. Johnny grinned back involuntarily, completely dazzled.

* * *

* * *

Susan and Logan were married later that month. Johnny moved into the castle as well, on the grounds of being her brother. A certain servant had taken to attending very keenly to the lighting wherever Johnny happened to be, but Johnny ever only openly stared at the guy when his back was turned, or he was looking the other way.

At the wedding, as Logan and Susan were sweeping across the dance floor in each other’s arms, Charles- the man in charge of tea and other refreshments- nudged Remy’s elbow. “Talk to him.”

Remy pretended he hadn’t just been staring at Johnny. “Talk to who, mon ami?”

Charles rolled his eyes. “The man you keep staring at.”

Remy glanced at Johnny, then promptly looked away when he saw those gorgeous blue eyes were locked on him. “Ah’m a servant, mon ami. It’s not mah place.”

“And he’s lived his entire life as a peasant. Your point being?” Hank pointed out, standing on his other side.

“Mah point bein’, ‘e’s a prince now. An’ besides, no’ everyone swings the way you do, mon ami.” This comment was directed at Charles.

Charles raised his eyebrows at him. “No, that’s true, but you’ll never know if you don’t ask.”

“It’s not like you not to flirt,” Hank supplied.

“Da’s differen’! Da women eat it up!”

“Well what’s saying a man wouldn’t?” Hank replied.

Remy glanced at Johnny again. Johnny blushed and glanced away, shifted his feet and pretended to be interested in something in the far corner of the ballroom.

Remy took a deep breath. “All righ’. But if dis doesn’ work, Ah blame all of you.”

Charles patted Remy’s back as he walked away. “Go get ‘im, tiger.”

Remy held back an eyeroll and approached Johnny. Johnny turned around immediately, sensing his presence even before Remy said anything. His eyes widened and he seemed unsure where to look. Remy took a deep breath and extended a hand. “Remy LeBeau. Ah’m in charge of light.”

Johnny grasped Remy’s warm hand and held on too long. “Johnny Storm. But then, you probably knew that.” He smirked with confidence he did not feel, butterflies going crazy in his stomach.

Remy swallowed and glanced at the dance floor, where other couples were now dancing around the newlyweds. “Would ya like tuh dance?”

Johnny gulped audibly, hand tightening on Remy’s, his face turning red. “I uh…” He cleared his throat and coughed, trying to mask his blush. “Yeah,” he said, staring at nothing. “Why not.”

Remy led him out onto the dance floor by the hand he had yet to release. He was very aware of the eyes on them, but since Charles and Erik had been a couple for so long, the eyes were less judgmental than they had initially been.

“I gotta warn you though,” Johnny said as they got into position, “I’ve never danced with another guy before.”

Remy pulled him a bit closer. “Neither have Ah.”

And with that, the two began twirling across the dance floor, as though they’d been dancing together their entire lives.


End file.
